Tomes of the Incomplete
by Zakle
Summary: A collection of short drabbles and slightly longer stories. Mostly answering prompts, challenges, and the odd stray thought.
1. He Can't Stay A Child

**Prompt given by** _SnarkyAndProudHufflepuff._

 _ **Secret Keeper AU: Albus Dumbledore was the Potter's secret** **keeper** **not Peter Pettigrew. Your restriction: Don't make Dumbledore evil, and don't have the Potters leave Harry at the Dursley's or anything like that.**_

 **A/N:** A very short one shot where Dumbledore and Lily come to the realization that Harry can't stay a child.

* * *

The threat of Voldemort was rising ever faster and Albus Dumbledore knew Harry Potter's life was going to change. Maybe he was a fool to think Harry could stay a child during such dark times, and he wasn't the only one to notice. Lily and James Potter knew as well and they clutched tighter to their child, paranoid his bright curiosity and infectious grin would be forever lost.

Albus glanced away from the window as a cup shattered against hard tile. The red-haired woman stood frozen, hands outstretched, her mouth opened in silent alarm.

"Harry James Potter!" she finally yelled, hands planted firmly on her hips.

The eight-year-old boy abruptly hid the small ball behind his back. "Hi, mum. Do you need something?"

"Do I-? Harry, what have we said about playing with the ball in the house?"

His brow furrowed. "Uh, I could break something." His eyes widened when he saw the busted cup.

Lily waved the frantic apology away before she shooed him outside where Remus, Sirius, and James were. She sighed, a slight smile on her face. "He's growing so fast," she muttered in equal parts awe and fear as to what that could mean. In three years Harry would be expected to go to Hogwarts for his magical education. In three years the Potters will have to say goodbye for the first time.

"You know he's safe at Hogwarts, Lily. Hogwarts will protect him."

"But what if he's-"

"He won't be. I promise no harm will come to him."

She grew quiet but Albus knew her mind and heart wouldn't be at ease until Harry was out of school.

"He can't stay this way forever, can he?" Over the softness of her voice, Albus heard Harry's joyful laugh. But that laugh was subdued, silent, as though he were a ghost and not in their realm of reality.


	2. I Am An Imperfect Being

**Prompt given by** _SnarkyAndProudHufflepuff._

 _ **Exposed Desires AU: An AU where the Mirror of Erised exposes your desires to everyone.**_

 **A/N:** Needless to say this is a partial self-insert due to the prompt. All that's truly mine in this character is the desire she has, everything else is a work of fiction.

* * *

Emma Applewhite wanted many things out of life. Knowledge, a caring heart, health, family. So many things. And so when she found out she belonged to a secret world, it made her feel _special._ Her mother had screamed. Her aunt had been silent. Neither would meet her eyes.

Now, she couldn't meet her own eyes. The mirror was odd and, she suspected, held magic. What it showed her ... it was breathtaking and yet so, so simple.

She was complete.

It was in her eyes, in her smile. Oh, Merlin, she was smiling. Emma never did that. Only she, in the mirror, held one. The real fourteen-year-old did no such thing.

She wasn't mad or sad or happy. She felt nothing for this reflected desire.

Mirror Emma was standing tall and alone, no friends to surround her, no family to crowd her. All alone and perfectly still.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there staring, but she awoke with a start. Glancing around blearily she thought she saw the door sliding closed. No, she rubbed her face, she was tired and was seeing things. It wouldn't be the first time.

Emma stood, half-curious as to when she sat down, and grabbed her school bag. With a hand on the doorknob, she took one last look at the mirror before she turned it and walked out into the hall.


	3. The Laughing Gargoyle

A/N: My answer to the prompt given to me by **SnarkyAndProudHufflepuff.** _Making hair change color prank._

* * *

Mariel pulled herself up using the bed's headboard, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the wood. Once she was sitting up, back propped against the mountain of pillows, she cleared her throat and screamed.

She waited.

And screamed again.

The door remained closed. Her broad nose furrowed in displeasure. She took in a deep breath with the intention of screaming like a murdered woman when the door was slammed open.

"What. The. Hell?" her big brother managed to gasp before falling forward, clasping his large knees.

Mariel smiled and wiggled her fingers at him. She was the perfect image of innocence – laid back, long hair pushed over one shoulder, wrappers scattered across her bed, an unopened school book forgotten and teetering on the edge. With large brown eyes, she blinked at him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

He finally took one more shuddering inhale before straightening up. "What was all that about, then? Nearly gave me a heart attack, you did. I thought mum and dad told you not to."

"And I'm just supposed to do what they say?" Mariel rolled her eyes.

"Uh, yeah?" he replied.

She kicked out with one of her legs and the book skid across the floor to his feet. He stared down at it, blinking slowly.

"I just, I just, ugh! I'm tired of being alone. Why do you _have_ to go to Hogwarts? Can't you just be at home like me?" Frustrated tears fell down her cheeks. Her brother, not used to emotional outbursts, lumbered to her side. Hesitantly, an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"I dunno," he said lamely, looking anywhere other than Mariel, "I tried to get out of it but they said I have to." He shrugged. "Said I have to learn and stuff."

She scoffed. "Learn and stuff? That sounds dumb."

Her big brother, having just turned eleven, was going to school to get his magical education, but she couldn't understand it. _She_ wouldn't have to go when she turned eleven. At eight, she'd rather have another kid around to play with, even if that meant she had to put up with her idiot brother. Tomorrow ... Tomorrow ... Tomorrow?

"You'll be riding the train?" She struggled to keep her voice low but, uncontrollably, it went several octaves higher.

He pulled away, obviously relieved she wasn't crying anymore (honestly, he wasn't good with the whole emotion thing), and nodded.

A train. Mariel's eyes lit with excitement. Oh, yes, a train was marvelous. With startling speed, the gears worked in the little girl's head as a slow grin stretched across her pale face. Her dark eyes turned to her lumbering golem of a brother.

"Go," she commanded shrilly with as stern a glare a child could give. Considering who her parents were, it was quite effective. As he walked out the door, leaving the door wide open, she gleefully put the plan in motion. Being terminally ill _did_ have its perks. The time alone helped better form her evil schemes.

* * *

When the boy finally ducked into an empty train apartment, he breathed a sigh. The very vivid multi-hues of his hair had caught the attention of people – both child and adult. Cautiously, he ran a hand through his hair and, much to his alarm, his hair grew another inch.

The door slid open. Draco Malfoy, cocky smile in place, froze in shock. "What happened to you, Goyle? Did you run under a rainbow before boarding?"

He growled softly in response.

Draco shrugged and fell into an empty seat, taking up an entire bench with his legs. Vincent Crabbe followed closely behind like a shadow. He quickly sat down next to Gregory.

Thoughts of a revenge prank were thrown out in favor of a certain Malfoy's monologue (in which he had to grunt) and piles upon piles of sweets.


	4. I'm A Tough Umbridge

A/N: **SnarkyAndProudHufflepuff** prompt.

 _Harry crosses paths with Umbridge in Diagon Alley sometime in the Next Gen._

Just a warning, though, this Dolores Umbridge is Starkid based and she doesn't appear until the very end. I'm not happy with how this turned out.

* * *

Harry Potter would often look back to his school years with happiness and dread. The good, the bad, it was all Hogwarts. A lot of the bad he could shoulder through. All it seemed except for a few. Sirius' death, Dobby's sacrifice, Cedric's unfair murder, even Dumbledore ... the list went on, filled with pain, death, and destruction. With Ginny's help, he came to terms that none of it was his fault, that he shouldn't carry the dead to the grave.

 _"Just let them go, Harry, let them rest,"_ she had whispered.

Letting the dead rest was the first step. Ginny, with her silent strength, helped him after the war, after everything went suddenly still, after everything came crashing. When the silence came and the fighting stopped, it was like something had broken in the magical community. And even now, after all those years, their world was still in the process of healing.

Then came the family–a family he had always wanted–and, holding James for the first time, things began to look clearer. His world became lighter each time he held his children. First came James. Albus came second. Then Lilly.

Their family was suddenly complete.

Shaking his head to clear the unbidden, though not necessarily unwanted, memories of his children, Harry flicked his wrists and forced the Daily Prophet into an upright position. The flimsy newspaper had predictably fallen in half. He read with squinted eyes even behind his nearly iconic glasses. Ginny had joked it meant he was an old man now. James had quickly joined in. Harry, himself, had defended his age. Thirty-seven was not _that_ old, thank you very much. And he had even said as much, which had only brought more teasing, this time from his sweet Lily.

He couldn't believe James was already in his third year and Albus, or Al as he was increasingly called, was just starting his first year. Only Lily, at age nine, was home, but even she was often gone having playdates with other magical children her age.

Harry sighed, his forehead furrowing the more he thought of them.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pecking his cheek, her worried eyes scanning the newspaper.

He shook his head and replied, laughter in his voice, "Nothing, I was just thinking."

She raised an eyebrow and pushed away from him. "Well, stop that. You're scary when you think. You made me think there was a disaster or something from the look you had." A smirk graced her cherry red lips. One look in her eyes, though, showed she had actually been worried. After the war, everyone was worried something even more terrible would replace it.

Something worse than Tom Riddle.

"What _were_ you thinking?" Ginny asked, successfully forcing those less than favorable thoughts to the side.

"I was thinking of how lucky I am to have such a beautiful and talented wife." He grinned and grabbed her hand, the newspaper was forgotten.

"Charming." She laughed, unknowing pulling him further and further away from the memories of his school years, of when he was the _Boy-Who-Lived_ and, later on, the _Chosen One._ With one laugh, her eyes lighting a flame, she chased the darkest times away.

Any other teasing between the couple was interrupted when three sets of bodies came into the kitchen. Lily, the youngest and smallest, was flushed with exertion, her red hair a mess of tangles. Her eyes, much like Ginny, was filled with a spark. This one, however, was due to excitement. One look at the boys told a very similar story.

It was time to go back to Hogwarts.

* * *

Harry stood in the crowd with Ginny and Lily, watching as the train, holding James and Albus, disappeared from view.

"They'll be alright," Ginny said with her free hand rubbing his shoulder. Lily peeked around them, eyeing the slowly dispersing crowd, until her eyes caught someone of interest. Harry glanced down at his daughter and saw her eyes go wide. He turned and ...

He felt a chill go up his spine.

An abnormally tall woman in pink was parting people like the red sea, her muscular legs, complete with pink strap-on shoes, bringing her closer, closer, closer – like a raging bull. Beside him Ginny had gone still, her face turning pale.

"Mr. Potter," the woman greeted with a simpering smile.

"Umbridge," Harry and Ginny said at the same time, their smiles overly tense and fake.

Dolores Umbridge reply was a high-pitched laugh. Her eyes wandered down to Lily. "And who's the littlest Potter?"

Before he could do anything, his daughter pushed herself through the wall her parents unconsciously made and grinned up at the tall woman. "My name's Lily. How did you get so big?"

Harry's mouth fell open and he spluttered.

Umbridge's smile dropped into a scowl. "Well, little girl, I did like my momma told me. I picked up everything and I," she suddenly fell into a crouch, her arms thrown over her head, "hoisted it over my head. I ate nothing but falcon eggs and rocks." She laughed before her face abruptly adopted a more serious expression. "You know, I was just as small, just as insignificant as you are now."

"I think that's enough, Umbridge," Harry said. Ginny pulled Lily closer to her, glaring as hard as she could at the unwanted witch.

Lily, with her smallness, managed to wiggle herself away from her mother. "You mean, even _I_ can be as big as _you?_ "

"Of course. My momma said every woman can be as tough as an Umbridge if she put her mind to it." Umbridge laughed again, the 'hurhurhur' echoing in the now empty train station. Harry had no idea how long they've been there, standing as the near-comical Umbridge corrupted his impressionable daughter.

If this had been their first meeting, he wouldn't have thought the pink freakishly strong spawn was a danger but he knew what she was capable of.

"Lily," Ginny called, "you want to go get that book you were telling me about?" They had finally gotten the girl's attention.

As they walked away, Lily chatting about some wizarding band, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was a mini-Dolores.


	5. Rendezvous in the Nursery

**A/N:** A very short flash fiction of a scene I couldn't get out of my head. Reintroducing my Harry Potter OC Thaddeus or, well, _young_ Thaddeus from an old fanfiction of mine that I have since deleted from the site. You can still find it on FictionHunt, though, if anyone's overly curious for what I wrote before I abandoned it. It's terrible. Don't say I didn't warn you if you choose to hunt it down.

There's likely a lot of mistakes in this oneshot. Bleh.

* * *

The room had been prepared months ago. Alongside one of the walls, farthest from the windows, was the cot. Made of a dark wood, it was a marvelously crafted piece with elegantly clawed feet inlined with gold and silver. It was good enough for her son, not so much for her. It was ... she paused the thought, wondering why she was being so critical of something so small. It wasn't like her son cared much for the aesthetic of his nursery. It wasn't like anyone would be in the room except for the nannies and house-elves.

Bellatrix Lestrange silently cursed them before she abruptly silenced those threats. She should be thankful her Lord was allowing a quick rest to coddle her son on his birthday. She had no place to be jealous in the light of his generosity.

He made a noise–slight, small, a mere mumble–before a head of messy curls poked above the railing. Thaddeus's blue eyes, bright from sleep, blinked sluggishly. "Mama?" he asked in a small uneasy voice.

"Yes, your mummy's home." She reached into the cot and grabbed his slight body. He was much smaller than other pureblooded children in his age group. Small and slight, he appeared weaker. If not for his obviously advanced intelligence people would have talked. At one-year-old, he was already beginning to read and words seemingly came easy in comparison to the other children.

To say she was proud would be an understatement.

Thaddeus gently slapped at her face, his brow furrowing and lips falling into a childlike pout. "Why?"

Bellatrix grinned. Her dark eyes glinted even in the dim lighting. "Our Dark Lord let me."

He giggled.

Her grin faded into a scowl. "One day you'll serve him!" she insisted harshly. Thaddeus flinched violently. "Hush, baby, hush," she cooed, no signs of her previous fury in sight. She rocked him side to side.

"He needs to sleep."

Bellatrix glared at the open doorway, clutching at her son's head and forcing it to stay on her shoulder. He softly whined and tried to push himself away from her. "What are you teaching him? He giggled, _giggled_ at our Dark Lord!" Her breathing had become rough, her black eyes widening until she resembled a caricature of herself.

The man's large, wide, frame stepped further into the room. His expression hadn't changed from the one of disinterest. "He needs to sleep," he repeated. He reached for his son and Bellatrix hissed, pulling away from the giant of a man, her feet gracefully sidestepping him. "You have tomorrow and he has a birthday party to rest up for." She knew he was right even before Thaddeus let loose a great big yawn against her skin. Hesitantly, she gave her husband their son.

Gently, all too gently, Rodolphus held the toddler to his chest before he lowered the boy into the cot. He reached down, kissed the curly head, and began to walk out the door without another word. Thaddeus watched him leave with curious eyes. He yawned again, this time longer than the first.

Bellatrix wandered to the door as well. She looked back and smiled. "Night, night, love." Her whisper fell on deaf ears as his eyes finally slipped closed.


	6. Trollish

**A/N:** Prompt given by, as per usual, **SnarkyAndProudHufflepuff.**

 __ shook with barely-contained anger. If she/he hadn't been in the library, she/he would've screamed._

Takes place during Chamber of Secrets when she, and most of the main characters, are in their second year.

* * *

Millicent Bulstrode despised anything to do with reading. It greatly confused her and gave her a splitting headache. She tried, once, but had been kicked out of the library for disruptive behavior and disrespecting the books. It wasn't her fault the book had slipped out of her hand ... because she had been shaking it. Before she left, a snarky Ravenclaw suggested she get a checkup because, undoubtedly, she had suffered brain damage from her unusually small cranium. She had blinked at them in confusion before she finally got it. Small. Yeah. They said she had a small brain. Not like she hadn't heard _that_ one before.

Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabb had helped her track down that Ravenclaw and they had given the mouthy student a swirly. She grinned at the memory and dutifully ignored the hint of pain she had gotten by their words.

The library was near empty when the large girl pushed her way through. Most of the students had gone home for the holidays. Millicent and her mother didn't celebrate so she never saw the point in going home. She glanced around, barely noticing the still-there librarian, and slowly made her way deeper inside. Irma Pince, all the while, glaring at her retreating back.

When she managed to cut off the glare with the shelves, she allowed herself to shudder freely, remembering the week detention prior. It had taken four months before she was able to enter the library or handle a book again. Not like she was complaining. It was easier to pretend she didn't have a problem when the problem wasn't in front of her. The professors were starting to notice.

Her face became red and she closed her eyes, fighting off tears of embarrassment. She tried at home but the disproving eyes of her mother and step-father forced her to stop. She couldn't stand making her parents unhappy and they _were_ unhappy with her poor reading skills. Seeing it, face-to-face, made them meaner, harsher, than she was used to. Finally, she had stopped entirely where they could see. It didn't mean at school.

Millicent hesitated, her hand frozen in mid-air, fingers twitching. Which one should she use? She bit her lip and clenched her hand before she began to reach for a book. It was thin and worn, the cover a simple moss green and the title one word. When it was away from the shelf and into her sizeable hands, she noticed the pages were a golden brown. With a shake of her head, she decided she would ignore the odd color and buried her curiosity as to why.

She sat at a table hidden in one of the corners and hunched over the book, her face set in grim determination.

"What are you reading, Millicent?" came a hesitant, though commanding, voice.

Millicent closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. "What do _you_ want, Granger?" she asked, her cheeks flushing at being caught. When she opened her eyes to glare at the girl, she found herself face-to-hair with Hermione Grander, the Gryffindor having bent down to read over her shoulder. "Watch it!" She reared back with a fist.

Hermione jumped back. "That's rude," she said, crossing her arms. Her messy hair was a tangle across her face.

"It's also rude to read over someone's shoulder," Millicent shot back with a growl.

Hermione blinked. "I'm sorry."

"Wel–What?" Millicent frowned. "Is this some sort of trick? Why are you being so nice?"

"Do I need a reason to be nice?"

"Yes." The strength Millicent put behind the word caused Hermione to freeze, a brief flash of uncertainty crossed her eyes.

A moment of awkward silence passed between them. Millicent's face grew redder the longer it lasted. "So," Hermione finally said, "what _are_ you reading? _I've_ read a lot of the books here already, though I haven't gotten through half of them, yet. Is it any good?"

"I–I, uh," Millicent sputtered.

Hermione had pushed back the hair that had fallen in her face and was back to hovering over the larger girl's shoulder. She was like a bee circling around Millicent's head, buzzing and an all-around annoyance, yet she was too afraid to swipe it in fear of being stung. She was afraid of being exposed.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed happily, "I know this one. It's quite interesting and–"

Millicent shook with barely-contained anger. If she hadn't been in the library, she would've screamed, but the ever-looming threat of another Madam Pince detention forced her into silence. "Granger," something in her voice must have reached the babbling–buzzy–Golden Trio member because the frizzy-haired girl finally stopped in the middle of explaining the book and had stared expectantly at the other girl, likely expecting some sort of back-and-forth with the Slytherin. Millicent felt a rush of happiness at being included before she ruthlessly forced it away. No fraternizing with a mudblood, she reminded herself, even if they were being strangely nice.

"I," she said, ripping the book away from Hermione's hands, "don't need your help. Leave. Me. Alone." She slammed her hand down with each word, the surprisingly loud hollow sound causing the Gryffindor to flinch.

Without another word, Hermione turned and left, her hand ghosting across Millicent's broad shoulders.

Millicent snarled and muttered, "Mudblood." She felt satisfied when the girl faltered before abruptly leaving the library with a tense back. When Hermione was gone, she frowned down at the book, her previous embarrassment coming back.

She took a breath and opened it. Whispering to herself, she began to read.


End file.
